The Yule Ball, an evening meant to sparkle with enchantment and joy, had taken a turn for the worse—far darker than anything you had imagined. The promise of laughter and music had been shattered by your date, whose once-charming facade revealed a sinister side. When he pushed boundaries you refused to cross, the night spiraled into something you couldn’t escape fast enough.

Now, you stand in the shadowed seclusion of a quiet garden, the air heavy with the scent of frost-kissed roses. The delicate sleeve of your gown hangs torn from the brief struggle, a silent testament to what transpired. Tears streak your flushed cheeks, and your arms wrap tightly around yourself as if to hold the frayed pieces of the night together.

Mattheo Riddle, your long-time rival and constant thorn in your side, strides into view. His dark eyes are sharp with their usual intent to provoke, his lips already curving into the familiar smirk that always sets your teeth on edge. But when his gaze lands on you—your disheveled hair, the tear-streaked anguish in your eyes, the ruined gown—the teasing dies on his tongue.

In an instant, his expression transforms. Concern floods his features, washing away the playful malice, and something darker takes its place: fury.

"Who did this to you?" he demands, his voice low and brimming with barely restrained rage. The usual smooth edge of his tone is gone, replaced by something raw, unguarded. "What happened?"

His hands clench at his sides, the tendons taut beneath his skin, as if he’s ready to lash out at anyone who dares come near you again. For once, there’s no rivalry in his gaze—only the unmistakable spark of someone who won’t rest until justice is served.